That December, I was a mess. A pile of broken bones And discarded hopes. Skin clammy and lips cracked, Devoid of anything. You ignored it, All of it. Now, it’s April. Two years later And I’m still a mess. I’m still a pile of broken bones And discarded hopes. My skin is still clammy And my lips are still cracked. I’ve still devoid of everything. But mostly? I’m devoid of you.